


Two Times George Washington Comforted His Grieving Subordinates

by r15019



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, but only in the first chapter really, probably not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r15019/pseuds/r15019
Summary: When the army thought Hamilton dead after the events at Schyulkill River, George found himself comforting a grieving John Laurens.A few years later after they've won the war, he discovers a grieving Alexander Hamilton and finds himself doing the same thing.





	1. Chapter 1

When the messenger delivered the news it was safe to say George was in a bit of shock. The mission had a low chance of danger, it was almost inconceivable that it could go so wrong. But more than that, it was almost inconceivable that anything could happen to Alexander. With his can-do spirit, his live forever attitude, all that, well… it was easy to buy into all that. 

Alexander seemingly came from nowhere and wormed his way into the military, into George’s life, with effortless grace. It came to the point where George couldn’t even fathom how he managed on his own. Alexander was nothing less than a limb. Something you took for granted, not even noticing its importance until it was gone. 

And now it’s gone. 

George grabbed the paper with hastily written scrawl from General Lee before ushering the messenger out. He read the words but they didn’t matter. All that mattered was one word- _ deceased _. His head spun and he had to sit down. Discarding the paper on his desk he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands until the world was a black, blotchy mess. 

To say George was shocked would be an understatement as he was in quite the state. He couldn’t help but wonder at his reaction. Men he knew, some he loved like brothers, died on the battlefield everyday. Another death should hardly prove a shock and yet here he was. Head in his hands, confusing the hell out of the aid-de-camps staring at him like he’d gone mad. 

It wasn’t until the voice of Meade ushered an unsure, “Sir?” That he remembered the other aid-de-camps in his office. That’s right, he was giving them instructions. Something to do with upcoming plans… he couldn’t quite recall. The only thought in his head was the word _ deceased _. Replaying over and over again with no sign of relenting. 

He stood back up, chair causing a screech which when echoed through the silent office sounded more like a gunshot. He quickly composed himself, adopting a face void of the slightest emotion. 

“I have received a message from General Lee. It seems the mission at Schuylkill River Mill has gone awry and several of our troops have been killed.”

The aides bristled to attention at that, eagerly awaiting the rest of the message’s contents to be revealed.

“Among them,” deep breath “is our own Hamilton.” 

And at that the alertness at which they once stood was deflated like a popped balloon. The room was sagged shoulders and solemn looks. There were a few objections, a few questions, George had neither the patience nor the answers so he dismissed them with a wave. 

Caught up in his own grief, he didn’t even notice that of John Laurens, who left the room with glazed over eyes with the makings of tears forming in their corners. 

….

Alexander’s death might have hit him hard but it changed nothing in terms of the indescribable mound of work to do so George was forced to carry on as normal. If anything, the work flow increased without Alexander to lighten the load. He felt guilty assigning more work to the aid-de-camps, many of who were still in obvious mourning over the news, but he had little choice in the matter. They were in the middle of war after all. 

Lafayette, who too was present when the news was announced, walked around bleary and red eyed like some sort of zombie. It was painfully obvious how close he was to Alexander. Him, Hamilton, and Laurens were near inseparable- another thought which only added to the ever growing sadness that plagued George. 

Laurens, he realized, he hasn’t seen very much of since the announcement a few days earlier. His work never failed in ending up on George’s desk by the end of the day, though the man himself was scarce to be seen. George made a mental note to check up on the boy later, when he had time that was. Which wasn’t looking to be anytime soon based on the growing aggressions in the war. 

With a sigh, George found himself back in his office, slumping into his chair with much work to be done. Before he knew it the sun dwindled away and the moon replaced it. He had to practically peel himself from his seat as he took off to trek to his tent. 

With the exception of a few candle lights pulsing from under tent flaps, the camp it seems was asleep. It must be rather late, he thought. It certainly wasn’t the first time he got lost in his work and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last. 

Silence imbued the camp save for soft snores that came and went as he passed tents. At this point, George was so used to the hog like sounds of his sleeping comrades that he was caused no alarm. What did cause alarm though, was the heavy sniffling that came from the tent of Hamilton and Laurens- er, just Laurens now it seemed. 

He did want to check on John and from the sniffling he knew the man was awake. God knows he hoped the sniffling was attributed to nothing more than the common cold as George would like to avoid any awkward situations with his subordinates and walking in on an aid-de-camp in tears would surely qualify.

Unfortunately for him, as he pulled back the tent flap that’s exactly what he saw. Despite the time, John was still in his full uniform with his hair immaculately tied behind his neck. He was sitting against his cot with knees pulled tight to his chest and head buried between them. Only when he heard George enter and saw who he was did he jolt up and salute, “General Washington” he said with a slight question. Perhaps George should have waited until tomorrow after all… in hindsight it did seem a bit informal to enter John’s tent unannounced in the middle of the night while he was in tears. 

“I’m sorry to impose Lieutenant Colonel, I just…” Just what? George curiously found himself at a loss of words. Once again regretting his impulse to enter the tent. “Wanted to check up on you. I know Hamilton’s death has been hard on us all.” Straight and to the point. That was probably the best way to do it. 

John nodded, his movements jerky, “I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern General.” 

George planned on taking that as the invitation to leave that it surely was until he noticed just the state the boy was in. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks still wet from the crying he was so obviously doing before George entered. He wouldn’t meet George’s eyes, instead his gaze was fixed to his feet as his lip shuddered in what could only be assumed was an attempt to muffle incoming tears. 

If George left the tent now he would be a cruel man indeed. So he dragged out a chair that was situated between the two cots and moved it to face John’s bed. John looked at him curiously and George just raised an eyebrow then looked to the bed, inviting John to sit. John took his invitation with untrusting caution and restraint. Sitting on his bed like he was made of wood, his back straight as a rod even as his lips quivered and his eyes momentarily clenched shut.

“You and Alexander were close, yes?” He asked trying to draw a response out of the boy. It seems he was unsuccessful though as all he received was another shaky nodd. 

“It hasn’t been too long that you’ve known each other yet. You must have taken a quick liking to each other.” 

Another jerky nodd. George couldn’t help but wonder whether he was comforting the lad or torturing him. 

“John.. I know it isn’t what you want to hear but casualties happen in war all the time. Good men gone before their time.” 

John sighed and then his breath hitched, “I’m sorry Your Excellency.”

George reached out a hand and laid it on John’s shoulder, “You have nothing to be sorry for, my boy.” 

John’s face collapsed and his eyes welled up with tears. “You’re right. We haven’t known each other for too long. Yet I love him” a sharp intake of air, “...as my own brother. And I know he loved me too.” 

George’s hand began to rub circular motions on John’s shoulder in unspoken support. 

“I just-” a broken sigh, “I thought we’d have more time.” 

“I know son, we all do.” 

And they sat there, with George’s hand on his shoulder and John trying to muffle his cries until the silent sobbs turned into soft breaths and the morning sun showed it’s first signs of arrival.

….

The next few days pass with unsettling normalcy. After all the war would not be put on hold to grieve a single man, no matter how valuable. All the other aid-de-camps it seemed were getting over their loss with the acception of Lafayette who remained silent the majority of the day, a true testament to his grief as otherwise the man barely hardly ever shuts his mouth, and Laurens, who when reporting for duty every morning came with red eyes and the saddest expression. Looking at him you’d think he was a newly wed bride who just heard her husband was killed in the war. 

It was hard for everyone to move on- luckily they would soon find out they didn’t have to. 

George was neck down in paperwork, its been a few hours now and the words started fusing together and dancing along the pages but he kept at it nonetheless. 

“Your Excellency,” a heavy french accent injected from behind him “Perhaps it is time for a break. You’ve been at it for awhile now.”

George sighed, “Lafayette I appreciate the concern but these reports must be completed by the days end, less the-”

His objection was halted by a heavy knock. Who would be interrupting him now? It was well known that the General was drowning in his work and any distraction would be unseemly. With a sigh he said “Come in.” And buried the strong desire to collapse his head onto the papers littering his desk. There was enough of them that it probably wouldn’t even hurt. 

“Your Excellency,” said the voice outside the tent, the voice which caused George’s heart stop if only for a moment, “I thought it best to report to you as soon as I returned from…”

Before he could get another word in Lafayette let out a joyous laugh and ran to the man, pulling him into a hug and in his excitement lifting a very confused Hamilton off the ground and twirling him around. 

“I’ll go get the others!” Lafayette laughed, “Everyone will be so happy to see you!” 

As soon as he ran out the tent Hamilton turned to George, a question in his gaze. “Not that I don’t appreciate it but why exactly will everyone be so happy to see me?” 

George walked over to the lad, setting a hand on his shoulder. “General Lee sent a report saying you perished in a skirmish with the British. We believed you dead.” 

Hamilton immediately bunched up, his fists clenching and his face set in a glare. “Why that man ought to-” 

His anger was quickly interrupted as the other aid-de-camps crowded the already cramped office space and assaulted Hamilton with pats on the back and joyful cheers. Hamilton despite himself smiled back and let out a few, if dazed, laughs of his own. 

It’s only when he sees John Laurens that his grin goes from unsure and halted to genuine and downright overjoyed. The same could be said about Laurens who just this morning looked near the brink of death and despair, and now is letting out a hearty laugh and practically yanking Hamilton into his arms. 

George couldn’t help but smile, too, at the unfiltered display of affection and love. Laurens pulled back and held Hamilton’s face in both hands, “I thought you dead.” 

Hamilton frowns again, “It was all Lee’s fault. The incompetant little-” 

He once again was interrupted as Laurens pulled him back into his arms. “It hardly matters right now.” He spoke into Alexander’s neck, “Worry about it later.” 

Alexander looked like he wanted to argue but instead hugged John back and pet his hair in soft, comforting strokes. “Fine.” He grumbled, though it didn’t quite have the effect intended when accompanied with the overwhelming smile on his face. They stayed that way for perhaps a moment longer than proper, lightly rocking back and forth while in the comfort of each other's arms. 

When the finally pulled back John chuckled a bit, “You really should be more careful you know.” 

Hamilton snorted, “Rich coming from you.” 

They were so wrapped up in each other that when George cleared his throat to gather their attention they jumped. 

“Seeing as the present circumstances are nothing less than… odd. I will grant the rest of you the night off.” 

The cheers that followed almost outmatched those of Alexander’s return. Perhaps they all really did need a night off after all. Besides, it would seem cruel to force them back in their desks now when they’re all so euphoric over Hamilton’s return. 

They all addressed him respectively then practically ran out of the office in their excitement. All but Hamilton and Laurens who walked shoulder to shoulder with content smiles on their faces.


	2. Chapter 2

The war was over in all but name and at last the country was one. There were still a few skirmishes involving the British but ultimately the war had ended and both sides were aware. The paperwork and treaties aspect of the war began now that the fighting had stopped and George couldn’t be more overwhelmed. There was so much to be done, each task of the utmost importance, and so little time it seemed to do it. 

Which is why he was currently visiting New York. There were some resources there he was in need of and some people he felt inclined to see. Hamilton included, as once the fighting ended he left to begin his Congressional career as well as pursue law. 

After taking care of some pressing matters, George took the limited free time he was allotted to journey to Alexander’s office downtown. He hadn’t seen the boy in quite some time and was looking forward to catching up, though considering recent events, the Hamilton he will walk in on might be of sordid attitude with a cloud of mourning hovering over his head and thus not receptive to such small talk. 

You see, John Laurens had passed away just a few weeks ago, and Hamilton had just now received the news. George knew how close the two were, they had met as his aid-de-camps and became fast friends but their affection only grew with time. George can’t help but recall Hamilton’s outrage when George refused to ransom Laurens back from the British those few years ago. It came to mind as well, the constant and incessant bargaining on both their fronts to be assigned to the other’s mission, to be relocated to their location, to sacrifice their own rewards in attempt to give it to the other. Yes, the two were indeed close. Which is why, upon entering Hamilton’s office, he was surprised to see the man utterly expressionless with not a single sign grief was upon him. 

“Alexander.” George said to announce his presence though Hamilton sat unperturbed. He was holding a pen tight in his hand and staring with wide eyes at the paper before him. The sight would have been normal if not for the pen which in Alexander’s hands would usually be scratching the paper with no sign of reprieve. Now it sat dormant in his unrelenting grasp. George could tell the violent nature in which he held it by the white coloration of his knuckles and the slight shake of his fist as he clenched it around the pen. 

“Alexander.” George said again, a bit louder this time but still to no avail as Hamilton didn’t even show the slightest sign of comprehension or acknowledgment at his call. 

“ _ Alexander _ .” Hamilton’s head finally snapped up in surprise, his pupils expanding and contracting as he regained sense of his surroundings. 

“General? What are you doing here?” He asked in a voice so low and hoarse George had to strain to understand. 

“I apologize. I was under the impression you were informed I would be stopping by. If now isn’t a good time we can reschedule.”

Hamilton blinked a few times as if confused and then stood up, just now remembering his manners. “No it’s fine. It’s fine. Sit, please.”

George sat down in front of Hamilton’s desk and only after he was seated did Hamilton sit down himself. 

“What was the appointment about, again?” 

“Not an appointment.” George responded. “More like… a social call.”

“A social call?” Hamilton looked incredulous, “Don’t you have better things to be doing? Like securing freedom for our country?” 

“I don’t think the country will mind if it’s free twenty minutes later than it would be otherwise.” George joked though Hamilton didn’t seem to let on. He stared only at George in confusion, still seemingly not fully aware of what was happening around him.

George sighed. “Just tell me how you’ve been Alexander. With everything that’s happened lately…” He trailed off, hoping Hamilton picked up on his unspoken question but the man seemed utterly unperturbed. “We’ve lost a lot of good men in the war, is what I’m saying.” He tried again but still nothing but a blank stare. “John Laurens especially.” 

Now that seemed to do it. George heard a crack come from the pen Hamilton still held in his grasp. For a moment, Alexander’s face twitched with a hidden emotion he was working hard to contain. 

“Yes, well. That’s war, isn’t it?” Hamilton said dryly, though there was an echo of venom to his tone. 

In an attempt to change the subject to something more breachable and perhaps open Hamilton enough to let his guard down, George asked, “What are you writing?” There. Simple enough. Even on an off day, with a bit of coaxing, Alexander would talk for hours upon hours about his current project. 

“Nothing.” 

George scoffed. “Now that’s ridiculous. What would you be holding that pen for if not writing? And why have a paper laid out in front of you if not to cover it in words?” He peered over the desk to get a look at the paper and was shocked to see Alexander didn’t lie. There really was nothing on it save for a few splotches of ink.

Now George was the one who was confused as he looked from the paper to Alexander. Hamilton’s eyes looked downwards and he had reverted to his blank expression, only it would crack on occasion, a shaky lip or an upturned eyebrow breaching his otherwise smooth features. 

“Were you about to write something, then?” 

Hamilton jut out his chin, if only slightly, in what George instantly recognized as defensive. Maybe writing wasn’t the best subject to bring up then. 

“How’s Mrs. Hamilton? Well I hope.” 

Hamilton stared at him for a moment with an expression of the utmost contempt before spurting out, “Don’t you have better things to do than sit here and ask me meaningless questions?” 

George was hardly taken aback by Hamilton’s outburst, at this point he was accustomed to them. Only they normally pertained to work or the revolution, not seemingly harmless conversation. 

Alexander buried his face in his hands before uttering a muffled apology apology. “I didn’t mean to say that, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” 

“Are you sure it’s only stress that’s been affecting you?” He asked, if a bit warily, “And not for instance, the death of someone close to you?” 

Hamilton raised his face from where it was still buried in his hands and glared coldly, “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” He practically hissed. 

If it were anyone else, behavior such as this directed towards a commanding officer would never be acceptable, no matter the circumstances. Though George always had a soft spot for the boy so he stayed and allowed it. 

“Do you remember,” He leaned back in his chair, appearing casual and relaxed, “That day a few years back, when you were sent on a mission to burn the Schuylkill River Mill and Lee sent back report that you had died?” 

Hamilton looked both confused and impatient, “What about it?” 

“When John Laurens heard of your supposed death, he was inconsolable. I sat in his cabin all night while he cried.” 

Now he had Hamilton’s attention. His indifferent, if a bit angry, exterior was slowly fading away. His eyebrows were both upturnt with a crease between them and his mouth stuck in a frown. 

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked shakily.

George ignored his question and continued, “Only in the early morning, when the first of the sun’s rays appeared, did his grief give way to exhaustion and he fell asleep.”

“ _ Stop _ .” Alexander said through clenched teeth.

“For the next few days, before you came back that is, he was absolutely miserable. Everywhere he went he was downtrodden, he sniffled so much with eyes that were endlessly red from tears, that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was sick.” 

Alexander was shaking now, his face was no longer void of expression, it now was painted in grief and anger. “ _ Stop it _ .” He tried again to no avail, George continued anyway. 

“The day you came back… well I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone happier.” He laughed, “I don’t even think Martha looked that happy on our wedding day. For weeks after nothing could get to him, as long as you were there he was happy.” 

Alexander finally exploded. He jumped up from his chair, slammed the desk so hard everything on top jumped, and screamed, “He’s not coming back! They buried his body and he’s dead!” 

George didn’t flinch at his outburst. He simply sat there and responded with a calm, monotone voice. “I know that.” 

“Then why are you telling me this?” His voice dripped in grief, “Is it your goal to make me miserable?”

“Of course not.” George stood as to be equal to Alexander. “I told you because you aren’t letting yourself feel. Any fool can see that. If you keep all your pain locked inside of you…” he gave Alex a once over, “You’re going to explode.” 

Alexander had the courtesy to appear ashamed and fell back into his chair. George followed suit though pushed himself forward to be closer to Alexander. 

“I was…” a sharp intake of breath, “I was writing a eulogy.” His voice cracked on the last word and all the ones that followed were said through a grief ridden voice, doing its best not to cry, “Except I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed for a moment but there was no amusement in it, “I’ve never not known what to say before. I just- I just loved him so much.” 

A stray tear escaped and Alexander wiped it away so fast it was hard to tell whether it was ever even there. 

“I want everyone to know how amazing he was. How it’s not just a loss for his friends and family but for the whole country. I just can’t seem to find the words.”

He looked at George with eyes glazed over in unspilled tears, “We were supposed to do it all together.” He whispered. “I- I told him to come to Congress. It was the last letter I ever sent him. I don’t even know if he read it.” 

It was as if those last words broke the dam as tears began to flood from his eyes and he was struggling for breath. “He was  _ perfect _ . He should have lived longer. There was so much left for him to do. I should have died rather than he, his life is worth a thousand of mine.”    
Alexander’s shoulders were shaking and he was sobbing now, just as Laurens had done all those years ago. Hamilton was right, he might have come back but Laurens wouldn’t. His death was indisputable. Now all that’s left of him is the grief stricken man before George who was trying so hard not to cry but couldn’t stop the tears and the choked sobs and the feeling that his heart was being crushed. 

George had seen a lot of men in mourning in his time. None were quite like this. The death of a brother in arms is always cause for grief- but this… this was soul crushing. George wondered for a second at the relationship between Alexander and John. He had never seen anything quite like it.

“I don’t know how to go on without him.” Was the last comprehensive thought Alexander shared before fully succumbing to his grief. He buried his head in his arms where they laid crossed on his desk, effectively hiding his face from observation. The ink stains on the empty paper were soon joined by tears as the weeping was unrelenting. 

George just sat there, his presence he knew, an unspoken comfort. So he will stay until the sobs subside and exhaustion overtakes grief. Just as he did for Laurens, he will do again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is probably the furthest thing from historically accurate but google wasn't really helping me with timelines so I kinda just guessed? 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> (also ignore the note under this, it's from the last chapter but for some reason it's here too and I can't get rid of it)

**Author's Note:**

> the next chapter will be about John's death and will hopefully be out by the end of the week.
> 
> hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
